


Sins of the Father

by themetrocourt



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26978758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetrocourt/pseuds/themetrocourt
Summary: Xander has done horrible things but still, Sarah Horton loves him. He is determined to hold fast to that love even as others fight to ensure that he pay for his sins. A Xarah AU.
Relationships: Xander Cook | Alexandros Kiriakis/Sarah Horton





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, it's me again. Starting a new fic. I love Xander and Sarah and I wanted to give them a story of their own. I also started plotting this in the summer so any similarities to other plots is merely coincidental. Besides, it's a soap opera - there are tropes that are timeless in the drama and I think I am hitting on a few. Hopefully you will enjoy my little tale and if you do, please let me know!

For a moment, she doesn't feel like she is looking at herself.

Sarah Horton tilts her head a little, a hand smoothing down over the textured fabric of her midsection. The woman looking back at her does the same, exuding an air of sophistication that is rare for someone who spends so much time in scrubs. Finally, as her mother gasps behind her, the image becomes clear.

_This is her wedding day_.

Her head turns over her shoulder to find Maggie Kiriakis standing in the doorway. Her mother's hand has gone to cover her mouth and there are tears in her eyes. Sarah makes a face, her nose wrinkling. "Already?"

"Oh Sarah, you look _beautiful_ …" Maggie breathes, coming further into the room. She closes the door behind her, no doubt to prevent anyone else from taking a peak at the bride before she makes her glorious debut.

Now Sarah looks back to the mirror to take herself in once again. She had said the words 'Old Hollywood' when she first stepped into the gown shop and she thinks she has managed to pull it off. The fabric hugs her curves before spilling out around her feet. Her curls, usually a wild mess depending on what time of day it is, are softer now, pinned down by a birdcage veil. She once again presses a hand to her against her dress. "You really think so?" she asks, as if she needs to hear it one more time.

"I think Xander would marry you in a burlap sack but yes, my darling, you are going to be the perfect bride," Maggie says with a laugh. She comes forward to place her hands on her daughter's bare shoulders. Their eyes meet in the mirror. "It's finally here. Your wedding…"

Despite that being very much obvious given her state of dress, Sarah's stomach curls just a little, as if she is struggling to wrap her head around the idea. She has planned for this day for months, not overlooking a single detail and yet now that it has finally come, it doesn't quite feel like it.

There is real fear coiling inside of her and she wonders if it is getting ready to spring forth into something she can't control.

Maggie's fingers tighten on her shoulders and she wonders if her face is telling. She tries to relax her mouth but in the end, a mother knows her daughter. "Is everything alright, Sarah?"

She finally turns away from the perfect image of herself to face her mother properly. "Yes, of course…" she says quickly. _Too quickly_. She takes a deep breath, letting her eyes close and then tries again. "Pre-wedding jitters, Mom. That's it."

Maggie lets the answer settle between them and Sarah wonders if she is trying to determine the validity of it. "That's normal," she finally says. She reaches for Sarah's hands and gives them a squeeze. "But I promise you, as soon as you see Xander standing there waiting for you, everything will fall into place. You'll be too busy thinking about how much you love him to consider anything else."

It is sound wisdom but Sarah can't help but doubt it.

This isn't the first time she has found herself in this exact position after all.

Sarah forces herself to smile (not too wide or else Maggie might question it). "Right, right. I wanted the whole bride experience - that includes the butterflies," she agrees and then quickly changes the subject before her declaration can be questioned. "How do things look?"

Maggie's entire face lights up again. "Everything looks amazing. The garden...the makeshift altar…" She lets go of her daughter's hands to press her own to her chest. "And of course the sun is out. You said it wouldn't dare rain on your wedding day."

Sarah manages a laugh. She had tackled the wedding preparation with the same amount of gusto she did everything else, barrelling ahead with bullheaded determination. Poor Xander had just held on for the ride but everything is playing out like it should.

(minus the bride's boiling nerves, of course)

"Can you go check on the photographer? I haven't had a chance to yet and now I am afraid if I go wandering around the mansion like this a certain someone might see me…" Sarah says and if Maggie catches on that she wants a few minutes alone, she doesn't let on.

Instead her mother nods and then begins to retreat. "I'll be back in ten minutes so I can walk you down the aisle," Maggie tells her and then gives Sarah one last smile before she disappears out the door.

Sarah stands in the middle of the room for a moment, and then turns back to the mirror once more. She shouldn't do it but she can't help but think of the wedding that was supposed to come before this one. She had stood just where she is now, looking at herself and bubbling over with happiness. There had not been even a hint of nerves then - she had never been so sure of what she was supposed to do.

And look how that had turned out.

That day she had lost her daughter and the man she loved. Everything that had held her heart together had been ripped from her - and worst of all, Xander had been the one responsible.

It has nearly been two years since that day but it still hurts.

Sarah has forgiven Xander; she truly has. But that doesn't erase the pain. She wishes it were that simple. That she can forget the love she had for a child that was not hers - even now, seeing Rachel causes something to catch in her. She knows that little girl is not hers and still, she feels a connection. That alone makes her feel guilty, as if she is betraying Mackenzie somehow. Her daughter (her real daughter) did not deserve to die the way she had and she certainly does not deserve to be forgotten. Only thinking of Mackenzie sometimes twists itself around to how everything had played out with Xander.

And now she can't help but let doubt creep in.

What if she goes downstairs, takes her mother's arm and has her world flipped upside down again? She had such faith in him on their first wedding day and she knows logically that he has changed in the ways that count to her. He loves her. She can feel it in every touch, see it in his eyes - he doesn't even have to say it. And she loves him too. She has never felt like this with anyone, no matter what she has told them. Xander is it for her.

But still, she can't seem to shake herself free of the shadows cast by what came before this day.

Now her dress feels too tight and the pins that hold her veil feel as if they are digging into her scalp. Logically, she knows this is panic and she can't give herself over to it (she needs to remind herself that she loves and is loved in return). Despite knowing that, she suddenly wants to be anywhere but where she is now.

So she turns and heads for the door.

**X**

Xander makes a face as Jack pulls on the knot of his tie, ensuring that is perfectly in place. They make a strange pair, he knows that. He is willing to bet that Jack is regularly questioned about their friendship and is glad that it has not deterred the older man yet. He would not want anyone but Jack standing next to him on this day.

"There," Jack says and takes a step back. "I think that is to the bride's specifications." Both men chuckle, no doubt thinking over the flurry of activity over the last week as the wedding day loomed.

"Sarah just wants things to go perfectly…"

Jack holds up his hands. "Listen, you don't have to explain it to me. I married a Horton woman myself. I know first hand what you are getting yourself into. Let me just say - it's worth it."

Xander doesn't need to be told this. He already knows. Sarah is worth everything. He doesn't care about how she had practically tangled him circles to ensure this wedding went off without a hitch. He doesn't even care about the wedding in general. Yes, he wants to call her his wife but they could have gotten married at the courthouse and he would be just as happy. But she is worth it. His smile says it all to Jack, who slaps a hand on his shoulder.

"All right," Jack announces. "I think I am supposed to direct you to the altar now."

Xander doesn't have to be told twice.

Two minutes later he is standing in the sprawling gardens of the Kiriakis estate, looking over a modest crowd of Salem's citizens. He knows very few are there for him and most that share his name are only here out of obligation. He doesn't care. He only waits to see Sarah appear on her mother's arm.

He doesn't even realize she is late until a murmur ripples through the crowd. His eyebrows come together and he glances towards Jack, who looks equally confused. Xander refuses to read into it. Sarah just needs an extra minute or two to ensure she looks perfect (impossible because Xander thinks she is at her most perfect when she begins to stir in his arms after a night's sleep).

That extra minute or two drags out. Becomes five, then ten.

Xander can't help but start to actually look at the people in the crowd. Most have their heads together, whispering theories on what is taking so long. But a few are staring straight at him, as if waiting for him to crack. He presses his mouth into a thin line when he notices the way Phillip has sprawled in his seat, a smirk creasing his lips.

For the first time, he feels genuinely nervous. _Something is not right_ \- a fact that is confirmed a moment later when Maggie appears. She is alone. Xander doesn't even think twice, he steps off the altar and moves down the aisle to meet her half way. His eyes search her face and even though he already has an inkling of the answer, he has to ask it. "Sarah?"

Maggie's mouth falls and she shakes her head. "I can't find her anywhere. Xander, she's _gone_."


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support. Hopefully you'll enjoy this installment. Things are not always what they seem!

Xander finally slumps down on the sofa, his head pounding (he doesn't much care that it hurts; in fact he thinks it makes for a good distraction). He finally reaches up to pull at the knot of his tie, no longer needing the damned thing since it has become painfully clear that no wedding is taking place. That particular thought hits him once again and he rips the garment off as if it is strangling him. He lets it fall to the floor and then stares straight ahead, not really seeing anything in particular.

(Sarah has left him)

"Xander…" The voice is tentative, as if the speaker knows they are approaching a wounded animal - and one that has been known to strike back.

Slowly, Xander turns his head to find Jack standing there. His best man (and one of the few people who actually wish him well in this town) moves cautiously until he can sit in the chair that is usually reserved for Victor. Xander knows the man wants to offer him sympathy. He does not want it. He doesn't want pity either. He wants to be left in the shambles Sarah has placed him in. He can wallow in his pain, let it wash over him long enough to harden him once more.

After all, this is not the first time his heart has been ripped from his chest (it is just the most torturous one).

"I talked to everyone," Jack finally says and he leans forward, his hands folded together. "No one saw her." Except for Maggie of course. She had spoken to Sarah moments before the ceremony had been scheduled to start. Currently, Maggie is sitting in the wreckage of what should have been her daughter's wedding, frantically hitting redial in hopes that this is the time that Sarah actually picks up. "And she didn't reach out to anyone. Didn't hint to what was going on or where she was going…"

"She's had practice," Xander says wryly. He has gone back to staring at that one particular spot on the floor. "She knows how to disappear when she doesn't want to be found." The words taste bitter in his mouth. The woman he had held in his arms the night before did not seem like she wanted to hide herself away from him - but then again, maybe he had not given her enough credit. Maybe he had been blinded by his love for her and not seen the obvious coming.

"I am sure that it isn't anything like that," Jack reasons. He talks softly, as if he can lull the animal in Xander to sleep. Xander doesn't have the heart to tell him that he is a lost cause. "It is almost tradition for the bride to get cold feet. In fact, I think every successful wedding has to have a bout of it…"

"...there is a marked difference between cold feet and being jilted at the altar, mate," Xander mutters, his voice cutting. He sees Jack recoil and regrets the harshness of his tone but not his words. He knows that Jack is just trying to find the silver lining and give him hope that Sarah will come back to him.

But he can't bring himself to buy into the idea.

They have hurt one another; there is no lie in that. In finding equal footing in their relationship, Sarah and Xander have lashed out and cut each other (sometimes deeper than they mean to) but there is something so callous about this. If she did not want to marry him, she could have just told him. He would have fought, pleaded... _begged_ but at least in the end, he would have known. Instead, he had stood at that altar, blissfully happy and blissfully unaware that his heart was about to be very publicly shattered.

"I am sorry, Jack," he finally says because it is the right thing to do. Jack has been nothing but kind to him, despite his many faults. He is grateful to that even if he does not always act like that. "I know what you are trying to do and I appreciate it. But tonight, I just need to be alone."

Jack's mouth presses together before he nods his head. He rises from the chair a moment later. As he passes by Xander, he stops to lay a hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you around," he promises. "Don't become a stranger."

Xander simply nods in return. Once he is alone in the Kiriakis living room, he bows his head and gives himself over to the silence. Although he fights against it, he can't help but think of how this day was supposed to play out. He sees Sarah, gorgeous in whatever dress she had chosen (she wouldn't even give him a hint in the days leading up to the wedding) standing at the end of the aisle. She is smiling, a familiar one that she saves solely for him. Everyone between them fades from his view and it is just her. Just her, the dress and her smile.

But that isn't how it has played out, is it?

Before he can think, Xander stands. He moves through the rooms of the house until he finds the terrace doors. He throws them open, not paying any mind to how they slap against the walls. In the dying light of the day, he can see the white chairs stacked neatly in rows. The altar still stands although the flowers have wilted after a day in the sun. Thankfully Maggie has retreated so she doesn't have to bear witness.

Now he gives himself over to his pain properly, striding up the aisle. His eyes lock on the spot where they would have stood to say their vows. He reaches for the lattice arch, pulling it to the ground with an angry cry. He can't help but bring his foot down on it, not satisfied until he hears the crack of the wood. He stands back and feels slightly mullfied by the idea of the altar in shambles. It matches his relationship.

He goes for the chairs next, ensuring that not one is left standing in a straight line. They are light, an easy feat for a man like him. He even sends one sailing over the top of the rest, feeling a grim sort of satisfaction when it bounces off one of Victor's finely pruned trees to lay broken on the ground.

Then the weight of everything finally pulls him down and he is content to sit on the ground.

_Alone_.

**X**

There is sound, a low drone that is constant. It both lulls her to sleep and threatens to pull her from it. She twists a little, a moan building in her throat. Her eyes flutter open when it finally breaks free.

Sarah sees nothing but white. It is bright; almost too bright. She winces, throwing a hand up over her eyes to help lessen the blow. The slight movement causes her stomach to flip on itself and she feels a wave of nausea. Panicking, she rolls onto her side and falls.

She hits the ground with a surprised yelp, her hands coming out to brace herself from burying her face into it. Fingers curl into soft fabric and she manages to open her eyes again. This time she sees red and finally her brain is awake enough to scream with confusion.

But first…

She gives herself a moment to see if the nausea is going to build into something more. She has experience in this and she knows her body well, even if this feeling is foreign to her somehow. When she is sure that she is not going to vomit right then and there, she allows herself to gather her wits and take in her surroundings.

Her head lifts and she sees red carpeting. It runs the length of the room - wait, not a room. The tops and the bottoms are curved and she nearly laughs because the first thing she thinks is that she is caught in a tube of toothpaste. A ridiculous thought but her brain isn't exactly firing properly. It feels like it is caught in a soupy mess that has dampened her ability to react properly (and just why is that?).

Sarah pushes herself on her hands and knees, the movement shaky. Her stomach rolls again and she groans. She doesn't want to throw up but maybe it is best that she does. She closes her eyes, feeling a cold sweat breaking out over her skin.

"Please don't do that there."

She freezes, her nausea temporarily replaced by fear. She doesn't know that voice and her senses are not what they should be right now but she knows enough - she is right to be afraid.

She is slow to turn her head so that she is looking over her shoulder. Her eyes run up the crossed legs of a man to the newspaper that shrouds the rest of him from her. His shoes are expensive and his suit is tailored. As someone who loves to see her man well dressed, she has an eye for these things. She falls back so she is sitting now, her arms wrapping around her midsection. She is vaguely aware of the feel of silk against her skin. She is in her wedding dress.

It is a slap to the face - _this is her wedding day_.

Finally with that sobering realization, she is able to shake herself free of the cobwebs pulling her down. The constant droning noise suddenly makes sense. She is on a plane. One that is firmly in the air, speeding God knows where. She keeps her eye on the man, the only other company she has (well, she hopes there is a pilot somewhere). "What the _hell_ is going on?" She speaks louder than she means to, her voice bouncing off the interior of the plane and going straight to her head. She winces, immediately moving to rub her temples.

Silence follows and she almost pushes herself to her feet so she can rip that paper from his hands. But as it is, she is barely holding onto the contents of her stomach. Instead she has to wait a beat or two longer before he finally folds the newspaper in half and she gets her first good look at him. His good taste in clothes extends to the rest of his wardrobe. His face is unknown to her, all sharp angles and topped with hair that is greying at his temples. He regards her with the same energy that he had given the paper, casting a slow gaze over her before unfolding his legs.

"It took you longer than I thought to wake," he admits and presses his lips into a thin line, as if he is disappointed in himself for being wrong. "But then, I suppose administering a benzodiazepine is not an exact science."

Sarah lets the words wash over her, her eyes widening as it fully hits her. She has been drugged. It explains so much, including why she would very much like to cover his expensive leather shoes in vomit. The fear she has been feeling boomerangs into anger and she nearly lunges for him. "You son of bitch…"

He clucks his tongue, a simple dismissal of her outburst. "Careful, Sarah, I am not normally known for tolerating disrespect."

She tries to temper herself, knowing if he is capable of drugging her and stashing her on a plane then he is capable of a great many things she would rather not consider. But still, her anger swirls around her and she clenches her fists. "What is going on?" she repeats, still wanting to know the answer to her original question.

"I will tell you," he says and then leans forward. His face is inches from hers now and she hates the way his smile covers the bottom half. There is no comfort in it. "But first, I think you need to throw up. You are a lovely shade of green." He jerks his head towards the back. "The bathroom is that way."

Sarah runs on instinct now, pushing herself off the floor and moving in that direction. She barely gets the door closed before she is on her knees, throwing up the contents of her stomach into the airplane toilet. She heaves until she can't any longer. Then she presses her clammy face against the wall, one hand falling to her midsection to hopefully settle it. Now that she has let her body do what it needed to do, she can finally truly assess her situation.

She is in so much trouble.

So much so that she is on the verge of panic when there is a knock on the door.

"Now that that unpleasantness is over, why don't you come out? We have a lot to discuss."


End file.
